Sprig of Thyme

There is a small sprig of thyme standing frozen in a small glass inside my refrigerator.
I'm sure that it's been there for a while.
next to a twelve pack of beer and half a can of mole that seems to last forever.
It makes me think of this empty can of coke i once saw in an elevator shaft at some shitty hotel in San Francisco.
i wondered how long it had been there, then.
now, it stays with me all these years
later.
elevator up!
elevator down.
i think of a particular old drunk who lives on sutter st.
he once made me some sort of beef concoction with balsamic vinegar he'd slow cooked for hours.
it was delicious.
i once woke up in his apartment and walked into his living room to find him riding the cock of some dirty derelict ten years older than he was
as if he were a young bronco at the rodeo.
i wonder what he's doing right now